


I Picture It Soft And I Ache

by grainyangel



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Singapore, Expat Brats AU, M/M, also no hockey and no references to sports whatsoever in this one, i guess, i wanted to put them in Singapore and so I did, they're in Singapore, this is very stupid because the author is very stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 07:52:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18936631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grainyangel/pseuds/grainyangel
Summary: Elias tipped his chin down to squint over his sunglasses. Brock had climbed out of the water and stood on the edge readying himself to jump back in. Elias drank deeply from the can in his hand. Brock’s blond hair, darkened with water, looked gold. Droplets hung precariously on his smooth, tan skin and winked at Elias as they glinted in the warm sun. Brocks skin was gold. His hard stomach, hard arms, all tawny, the ripple of his muscles, all glinting, and Brock’s eyes, looking straight at Elias, and his mouth, flashing a wide grin before he jumped into the water. Elias hastily pushed his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose, turned his face front and promptly closed his eyes. He said nothing to Federica’s low chuckle. She could have been laughing at anything.-It's very hot, and the water is very blue, and Elias is very in love but that's none of your business.You know that post on tumblr that's someone telling a story about how in like middle school they had a crush on some girl and they didn't know what to do about it so they just wrote her a note that said GET OUT OF MY SCHOOL. That's the energy.





	I Picture It Soft And I Ache

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Mitski's Strawberry Blonde (thanks Aisling) and thanks 2 Robyn for the emotional support in these most trying times.
> 
> (I LOVE EVERYBODY BECAUSE I LOVE YOU WHEN YOU STOOD UP WALKED AWAY BAREFOOT AND THE GRASS WHERE YOU LAY LEFT A BED IN YOUR SHAPE I LOOKED OVER IT AND I ACHED)

The humid heat was on them like a blanket from the moment they stepped outside. The heat was inescapable and heavy and heady. Drowsy heat. Slow. In weather like this there was really nothing to do but collapse by the pool with each a beach towel and a cooler for drinks and so that’s just what they did. No one had thought to bring a loudspeaker so their lounging was set to the soundtrack of distant traffic, birds and buzzing insects, and sloshing water. The only bird Elias could actually see was a small black one hopping around on the half wall that separated them from the round driveway up to the building, on the other side of which was a single tennis court, that according to Federica was in more frequent use than the pool. 

It was late afternoon in mid-May. The sun wasn’t setting yet but it would start doing so in just a couple of hours. The weather might turn before then.

There were enough pool chairs for everyone but most of them were stacked together in a pile off to the side and no one would muster the energy to bring them over so only three chairs were by the edge of the water side by side waiting to be claimed. Elias threw his towel down on the one in the middle. Federica took the one to the left of him, Jake took the one to the right. Hutty was carrying the cooler and after setting it down he started handing out beers, tossing one to Elias, Jake, Federica each. 

Everyone was in their bathing suits. Elias was wearing a light short sleeved button-down that he kept on. (The sun was not his friend, especially not here, a mere 137 kilometers from the equator.) Federica had on a wraparound skirt that was almost the same exact shade of bright red as her bikini. Lauren stepped right out of her shorts and pulled off her top and jumped in the water. Brock had been wearing a white baseball jersey, and had worn it half unbuttoned all day and had at some point unbuttoned it the rest of the way and now he just shrugged it off and jumped in as well. (He’d been wearing the jersey and then, of course, his bucket hat which he’d taken off and thrown in the direction of the chairs and Elias had watched it spin through the hair like a Frisbee and then land soundlessly a couple of feet from where he was sitting.) Jake and Huttsy had each pulled off their t-shirts, but Hutts had kept his sunglasses on as he waded into the water.

The area was surrounded by green. All along the edge of the property was a fence, and along the fence grew lush trees, big leaves deep green, one in the corner had white flowers, and above the trees, Elias could see the tall palms that grew along the side of the road. 

Behind the tower was a small patch of that rough grass that grew here, nothing like the grass Elias was used to back home, the grass here, Elias had quickly come to realize, was prickly and unpleasant to sit on. The leaves were thicker and tougher. He usually tried to steer clear of the weird grass whenever possible

The six of them had met for lunch at the hawker center at Newton Circus because it was kind of close to where Brock lived, but the pool in Brock’s condo was always full of kids and families, so they had split up, gone home to change, and reconvened at Federica’s place; a towering single-building condominium on Arthur Road where the pool was always empty. Jake and Hutty had procured beer en route. Brock and Elias had gone to Elias’ place because it was halfway between Novena and Mountbatten and Brock was already wearing his trunks – baby blue – so there was no point in him going back to Bukit Timah for anything. 

(At Elias’, Brock had thrown himself on Elias’ bed to wait while Elias had changed out of his jeans and pulled on his swim shorts over his boxers.) 

 

*

 

The sun was beating down, even through the passing clouds. The air was hot in Elias’ throat. He felt like he was overheating. His face was too hot. His body too. Sweat ran down the back of his neck. He thought that they should probably move into the shade soon. Brock was shirtless. Elias felt a little light-headed. It was too warm. Elias undid just one more button on his shirt. Three open buttons would have to do, he hadn’t put sunscreen on his chest. 

“Where’s your family?” Jake asked. He didn’t say a name but Elias was pretty sure he wasn’t talking to him.

“Bali,” Federica said, “long weekend. My mom just turned 50.”

“Without you?”

“It’s just my parents.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t you have a sister?” Elias asked because if he pretended to participate in the conversation they definitely wouldn’t notice that his head was somewhere else. 

“Two,” said Federica, “the younger is…” 

Elias wasn’t listening. The water was very blue and it lapped against the side of the pool when Brock disturbed the surface. 

“…been at Reading for like a year now…”

Something about watching Brock made Elias think of figs. He was pretty sure he’d never had a fresh fig, just dried ones at Christmas, but somehow he had a very clear image in his head of what biting into a fresh fig would be like, what it would taste like, how juicy it would be. How soft. Brock shook out his hair and ran a hand through it, took a sip of his beer. Elias could almost taste the sweet fruit in his mouth. Not that he wanted to take a bite of Brock. That would be weird. It was just one of those funny things. Strange associations. Elias licked his lips.

“… spent Easter in Langkawi with them, and I can only stand so many family vacations in a year, you know?”

“Yeah,” Elias said. “Totally.” 

Hutty and Lauren were in the corner of the semi-circle pool, leaning against the sides, they were talking, Hutts was probably flirting – Elias couldn’t tell from this distance how he was doing – his beer forgotten a foot and a half from them on the tiles. Lauren had somehow managed to get into the water without getting her hair wet. Brock, however, hadn’t. He was resting in the water with his arms up on the edge and a beer in one hand. Occasionally he’s kick the water lazily, most mostly he just hung off the edge with his chin on his hands.

 

*

 

Elias tipped his chin down to squint over his sunglasses. Brock had climbed out of the water and stood on the edge readying himself to jump back in. Elias drank deeply from the can in his hand. Brock’s blond hair, darkened with water, looked gold. Droplets hung precariously on his smooth, tan skin and winked at Elias as they glinted in the warm sun. Brocks skin was gold. His hard stomach, hard arms, all tawny, the ripple of his muscles, all glinting, and Brock’s eyes, looking straight at Elias, and his mouth, flashing a wide grin before he jumped into the water. Elias hastily pushed his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose, turned his face front and promptly closed his eyes. He said nothing to Federica’s low chuckle. She could have been laughing at anything. 

_Look at you,_ Elias wanted to say. _Just look at you_. He finished his first beer. When Jake finished his he got up to get another and Elias asked him to bring him back a second as well. 

Brock moved like no one else Elias knew. Walking, running, diving into a pool, swimming, shifting, lifting. His body was made for movement. Strong. Beautiful. He looked like some kind of… some kind of, what– hero? Champion? He looked ridiculous. Unreal. Incredible. His skin looked very soft. Very… 

A whisper of a breeze blew over them. It wasn't quite cool, but it almost felt it on Elias' hot skin. He tried to focus on the breeze, but it passed too quickly.

 

*

 

Coming from somewhere in the distance Elias heard a faint siren, but under the sun and the humid air and the sloshing of the water it might as well have come from the other side of a veil to some other dimension it sounded so far away. A distinct feeling came over him then, that there was no world outside of this. Arthur Mansions and the sun and the pool and the six of them, sweating, swimming, lounging, lazy, and nothing else in the entire world. Right that moment that didn’t seem so impossible at all.

He had been in the country for just short of a year, and for the first four or so months of that almost year, he and Brock had barely spoken. Not for any reason other than it seemed they just didn’t have much to talk about. Elias’ impression was that they had little in common. Because of this, it had been to Elias’ great bemusement when around Christmas time he’d suddenly realized that he and Brock hardly ever went anywhere without the other. 

He tried justifying it to himself on the grounds of them having many mutual friends. But _mutual friends_ didn’t quite cover it, seeing that not only did they have some friends in common; they had all their friends in common. Save for the people they knew back in each their respective home countries and towns, neither of them had any friends here that weren’t also friends with the other. Elias was smart enough to know when the argument no longer held water. Sure, they were usually invited to things as a group – himself, Brock, Hutty, Jake, usually Troy, who couldn’t make it today, sometimes Bo, often the girls as well – but it didn’t escape Elias’ attention that whenever Brock got an invitation, Elias’ invitation was implied by proxy. People asked for Brock through Elias or Elias through Brock: that the two went together had at some point, unbeknownst to Elias, simply become a given thing. 

They were Brock and Petey, Petey and Brock. It was impossible at this point to say if Brock was the one following Elias or if Elias was following Brock. If Brock was going to be there, so was Elias. And this was despite the fact that he and Brock very rarely hung out just the two of them alone. If that was because whenever Brock asked Elias almost always had somewhere else very important to be then that was purely a coincidence and nothing else. 

Brock and Petey and the rest went to parties and to lunch or dinner, they went out, stayed in, hung by the pool or went to the beach or the bar. Always Brock and Petey and then the others. 

Elias’ predicament had recently evolved from moderate confusion, to a heightened awareness, and then, a fierce attempt to will himself not to thrill whenever Brock looked his way. Which Brock did. Often. Or when he said Elias’ name. Which he also did. Often. 

Elias was just cracking open his third beer. Technically fourth, since they’d all had one at lunch as well. It was still very hot. At least the beer was cold.

 

*

 

Elias definitely did not pay attention to the way the water sparkled his shoulders or the way his muscles strained under the skin as Brock pulled himself up and out of the pool, shaking his hair out like a wet dog. A big golden retriever. Elias didn’t follow Brock's movements with his eyes, discreetly and without turning his head, as Brock walked directly over to where Elias, Federica, and Jake were sitting. 

He may have looked over when Brock bent down to pick up his stupid hat on the way over.

“Hey, Boes, what’s up?”

“Hey, Jake,” Brock said with a smile, not that Elias was staring, “fuck off, would you?”

“What? Why?”

“I wanna sit here.”

“Get another chair if you want one,” Jake argued.

“I wanna sit _here_ ,” Brock said. Then came a _HEY_ and the scrape of the plastic capped leg of the chair against the tiled poolside, a thud. Elias turned his head a fraction of a degree to look out of the corner of his eye. Where Jake had just been sitting, Brock now lounged.

“Hey, Petey,” he said. 

“Hi, Brock,” Elias said, and just barely dodging Brock trying to put his terrible hat on Elias’ head, and this only because he knew it was coming. Brock didn’t look too discouraged. He put the hat on his own head instead.

“Your face is pink,” he said.

“It’s very warm.”

“Hey, Fede.”

“Hey, Brock,” Federica said in a bored sort of voice from over on the other side of Elias, and he did his utmost to act like he hadn’t completely forgotten that she was there. Elias closed his eyes again. 

There was a moment’s relative silence between them and then Federica said “I’m gonna go up and make drinks, anyone want anything?” she looked at Elias, “Pete? G&T?”

“Yes,” he managed to say, “thank you.” He hoped she knew he didn’t just mean for the offer.

“Me too!” Lauren called, and Hutts did the same. Jake jogged over to join Federica saying he’d help her carry or something like it. 

“Think he’s tryina work a bit of magic over there.”

“Who? Huttsy?”

“Yeah,” Brock said, “you think he’s having any luck?”

“Depends on Lauren’s standards,” Elias said, just a little louder than he needed to, and noted with a smirk that Hutts had heard and shoot a quick, cold look his way. 

“You look good today, Hutton!” Brock called.

“I feel good, Boeser!” Hutts called back.

Brock had been sitting straight in the chair, in a sort of lax imitation of Elias’ own pose but without the crossed arms. He now shifted so he was still lounging but with his body angled towards Elias. Elias hadn’t meant to watch him. He wished he hadn’t, then he wouldn’t have seen the goofy grin on Brock’s face or the shape of his body and the way his wet hair fell. Elias thought about running his hand through Brock’s hair to get it out of his face, but Brock beat him to it, pushing it behind his ear, and Elias arms stayed crossed tightly across his chest. Elias sincerely hoped that Brock wouldn’t see his eyes through the dark sunglasses. 

The single inch Elias had on Brock mattered very little when they were laying down like this, Brock was thicker, stronger, and closer that Elias knew what to make of. 

“So,” Brock said, “what’s up?”

“Not much,” said Elias.

“You’re still wearing a shirt,” said Brock.

“I burn easily.” 

“You’re not gonna get in the water?”

“Nah.”

“Not a big swimmer?”

“I swim.”

“But not today? Why?”

“Just don’t feel like it.”

“Okay,” Brock just said. Elias didn’t know what to say next so he said nothing. When Brock reached towards him, Elias sat completely still, unsure what Brock was doing, and when he plucked Elias’s sunglasses from his face, all Elias could do was watch. First Brock put the glasses on his own nose and looked around a bit as if to get an idea of how Elias’ had been seeing the world. Then Brock took off the glasses and folded the them neatly and lay them down on the tiles between their chairs. Elias squinted, everything very bright after having worn the dark glasses for hours, and he folded his brow into the most incredulous expression he could manage and made sure Brock saw before he turned his face away, hoping to get Brock to ask himself who the hell he thought he was.

“I don’t think you need those, the sun is behind the building,” Brock just said. 

Elias found a spot to fix his eyes to so he didn’t have to look at Brock while Brock was looking at him. “Not with your giant head blocking it anyway,” Elias said.

“Hah! You’re one to talk!”

The thing was, looking at Brock was extremely distracting, looking at him made it hard to think straight. Especially when he was this close to Elias and also almost naked and reflecting the red sunlight like a plate of gold. And if Elias already had trouble getting Brock’s glossy, yellow hair, or his infuriatingly smooth, tan skin, or his muscle-hard body, or his stupid and incredibly embarrassing smile out of his mind, well, then that was nobody’s business but Elias’s own.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Brock.

“Nothing,” said Elias, way too fast. _Eyes on the road_ , Elias, he told himself. _Don’t crash._

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

Another beat of silence.

“I see,” said Brock. 

“Don’t,” said Elias. “Stop it, stop seeing.”

And Brock just chuckled and said, impossibly, “it’s okay. It’s okay, Pete.” As if he couldn’t see that _okay_ was perhaps the very last thing that this was. It was embarrassing and goofy and it was too hot and too much. Elias shouldn’t have had so many beers, he still had one in his hand, almost empty. He was desperate for Federica to return with his drink.

Brock spoke again: “Your eyes are like, really blue.”

Elias mouth felt very dry. He poured the last drops of his beer into his mouth. “Uh, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

A single fat drop of water found its way from Brock’s hairline onto his smooth forehead, rolling lazily towards his eyebrow. Before Elias could even think about it, before he even realized that he was looking at Brock again even though he’d decided he wasn’t going to, before he could stop himself, he’d reached out and caught it with his thumb against Brock’s skin. Brock looked surprised for a single second before his small pink mouth split into another one of his bright, white smiles and mortified, Elias snatched back his hand and found himself once again desperately wishing that Brock would stop smiling at him like that all the time. Like maybe if Brock smiled the way he was currently smiling at Elias at one of the other guys every once in a while, it wouldn’t be so unbearable. But Elias more or less immediately realized that he didn’t like that image at all. He did not like the thought of Brock going around and looking at just anybody the way he was currently looking at Elias.

“Thanks,” Brock said, insufferably smug.

No problem, Elias thought. Tried to take a deep breath. Failed. “No problem,” he finally managed, and only just.

Brock pursed his mouth then. Breathed in.

“Shut up,” Elias said.

“I didn’t say anything,” Brock said, without looking all that offended.

“You were about to.”

“Was I?”

“You wanted to,” said Elias.

“That right?” said Brock, with a smirk on his voice and Elias turned his head as coolly as he could manage, doing what he could not to show a thing on his face, to meet Brock’s gaze. “What did I want to say then?” Brock asked.

“How would I know?”

“It was you who said I wanted to say something,” Brock pressed.

“Never mind.”

“Come on! Just tell me what you thought I was going to say.”

Elias looked at Brock. Studied him. His face was earnest enough. He really did want to know. And Elias almost wanted to say. But he didn’t. “Nothing,” he just said, and pressed his lips together very tightly.

Brock huffed, disappointed. Then his eyes lit up in an extremely worrisome way and he said: “Did I maybe want to say that y–”

“We’re back!”

“Fede!”

“Hey.”

“Jake! Is that mine?”

“Yeah, these are yours.”

“You didn’t want one did you, Brock?”

“Nah, beer’s good.”

“Good cus I’m not going back and making more.”

Elias took a breath. 

“This is yours,” Federica said and handing a glass to Elias, and he took it gratefully. Federica sat back down in her chair. Elias took a big gulp of the drink even though it hurt his tongue a little. Brock, the fiend, leaned back and resumed the position he had been in when he had first taken the seat from Jake.

“I don’t get my chair back?” Jake complained.

“Nope.” Brock simply said.

Elias might have turned his head away to hide a smile or he might not have, what’s it to you?

 

*

 

Thunder rumbled. That meant rain was most likely coming. Possibly soon. Probably a lot of it. The rain fell heavy here. Every shower was like a cloudburst. They started gathering their things up, towels and cooler and beer cans and discarded clothes, so they could get inside before it really started raining.

Elias was the last to get up, mainly because he wasn’t sure that when he did the world wouldn’t start tilting to the side when he tried to take a step. 

He would not fall on his ass, not here, not now. He sat on the edge of the chair and pulled the towel out from under himself and hung it around his neck. In one had he had the glass his gin and tonic had been in, in the other he would have to gather his own empty cans. He picked up one before someone else swooped in to get the other two. 

“Want a hand with these?” Brock asked.

“I was gonna get them,”

“Now you don’t have to.” Brock went and tossed the empty cans into the cooler for easy transportation. 

“Thanks.”

“No problem, bud.” Brock came back over and leaned down to pick something up from between the chairs. Elias’ sunglasses. Which he had completely forgotten about. Brock handed them back to Elias. “You good?”

“Never better,” Elias said which made Brock laugh loudly, throwing back his head. Elias didn't think it was _that_ funny. Then Brock held out a hand and Elias gave him the can he was holding and Brock half turned and called: “Huttsy! Think fast, bro!” before he tossed the can in the general direction of Hutton who was piling his own empty cans into the cooler. Elias didn’t hear it hit the ground so someone must have caught it, but he wasn’t looking at the can. Brock had put his shirt back on, once again leaving the buttons undone. The short sleeves hugged his biceps snugly. Brock hadn’t shaved in a few days, Elias could tell, from the blond stubble on his jaw and chin and lip. Brock’s eyes were the same shade of blue as the pool water, there was a sort of clear, warm tint, almost turquoise.

“Yo, Petey? You in there?”

Elias blinked. Brock was offering him his arm like an old-timey gentleman asking a lady to dance. Elias took Brock’s arm without thinking too hard about it.

 

*

 

The same minute they stepped into the cool, air-conditioned apartment the sky opened and rain fell in sheets. Lighting cracked in the distance, and more thunder followed. 

“Whoa, is this, like, a penthouse?” Hutts asked.

“No,” Federica said, in that default unimpressed voice.

“But it’s like, the top floors?”

“Not a penthouse.”

“Still. Cool.”

Everyone stepped out of their shoes.

Federica pointed out the kitchen and the minibar and Hutty took it upon himself to mix another round of drinks. Lauren stayed with him as the rest ascended a flight of curved stairs to the second of the apartment’s three floors. 

Hutton stuck his head out and called up the stairs: “Hey Fede, got any Red Bull? I wanna try something.”

“Got any what?”

“ _Red Bull!_ ”

“I don’t know, try the fridge.”

Elias heard giggling from below.

“ _Thanks!_ ”

The group congregated in couches around a low coffee table. Federica went into a room and came back with a speaker and a cord to plug in a phone for music. 

 

*

 

Hutty and Lauren joined them a suspicious amount of time later, Lauren with a glass in each hand and Hutts with two in each, a finger dipping slightly into the content of at least one. At least there seemed to be the same thing in every glass. Everyone were handed one.

“What’s in this?”

“Dude, just trust me!”

“Are you serious?”

“Ok, fine don’t, just like, try it– try it, then I’ll tell you.”

“Hutty, serously, what’s...”

“Why is it milky?”

“Is there coconut in this?”

“… smells like beer.”

“Oh, it’s really sweet.”

“What’s in it, Hutts?”

“Oh,” Hutty looked at Lauren. “Uh, there is coconut in there, for sure. Um, what else?”

“I don’t remember…”

Elias met Brock’s eyes over the rim of his glass. Neither of them had tasted it yet. Elias snorted and Brock barked and shot him a look that Elias took as _I’ll do it if you do it_ , and Elias responded with a look that said _you’re on._

Elias counted down from three in his head and tipped the glass, and Brock did the same.

The concoction was absolutely vile. He tried not to choke on it, and when he had finally managed to swallow his modest mouthful he saw Brock raising his own glass to Hutty saying: “Hey, Hutton, this is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“That’s a little harsh.”

“I’m not joking Huttsy–

“This is poison,” Elias agreed.

“It’s not actually as bad as I thought it would be.”

“You’re an animal.”

“It’s an acquired taste!”

Elias took another sip, just to be sure. It was absolutely gruesome.

Brock had put down his glass. Elias did the same. 

“Hey,” Brock said to Elias, nudging his knee with his own. “I wanna show you something.” Brock got out of his seat in a smooth motion and Elias followed him without thinking twice. Huttsy was putting on a show, gearing up to give an impassioned speech in defense of his horrific cocktail and his at-best questionable skills as a mixologist and no one paid attention to Brock and Elias sneaking off. 

Brock went up the next flight of stairs and Elias was right at his heels.

 

*

 

The sun had gone all the way down now. The rained had subsided but not stopped. Brock pulled open the big sliding glass door. The small terrace on the very top floor of the building was only half covered, and most of the space of taken up by a small nursery of chest high lemon trees in big ceramic pots. 

“Hey look, those are tiny long oranges.”

“I think those are kumquats,” Elias said.

“They’re what?”

“Like…” Elias didn’t remember why or how he knew what kumquats were. “Yeah, they’re like, tiny... long... oranges, yes.”

The view from the 17th floor was one of his favorite things about this city. The lights. Like bright stars in all different colors. Street lights. Lights from cars. Lights from signs, from houses down on the ground, from other high-rises. It was oddly calming. It was quiet, so high up. Like earlier, by the pool, it felt like a closed little world to look out at the city like this. There was no ground and no sky, just darkness and lights. 

They stood just inside the open doors and listened to the patter of the rain.

Brock seemed calm. So incredibly calm in that way he almost always was. Calm confidence, calm happiness, a calm going-about of his ways and his business. Brock sighed deeply as if to emphasize Elias’ unspoken point. Elias thought he might explode.

“Why are you so mellow all the time?” Elias asked. 

Brock looked at him.

“ _Why?_ ”

“I dunno. How, then?”

“I don’t know. How are you so intense all the time?”

“I’m not intense.”

“You’re very intense.”

“I’m not– I’m just…”

“I like it.”

“Shut up.”

“What? I like that you’re weird and intense.”

“I’m not weird. You’re weird.”

“Do you like that I’m so super chill and mellow?”

“No.”

“Come on, do you?”

“Maybe! Maybe I like it maybe I hate it! Maybe it’s none of your business!”

“Fine. Whatever,” Brock said. For one blissful second Elias thought that Brock might really just leave it at that. Elias supposed he should have known better. “But I think it’s your business that I like you. Your business and mine. But I guess that’s just me.”

Elias looked at the small bright bulbs of fruit, lit by light from behind them. He tried to count the ones he could see. He kept his mouth shut.

“I just think since we’re–” Elias snuck a glance at Brock out the corner of his eye, Brock was looking at ahead too, not at Elias. “Y'know. And like. I like, care what you think or whatever, like maybe I care more about what you think than what everyone else thinks, I think it’s your business that I think you’re really cool and that I really like hanging out with you and stuff.”

Elias thought about touching Brock’s hand. Without looking he knew it was hanging right next to his own. He crossed his arms instead.

“I wanna like do stuff with you, like go places, you know, do stuff, hang out. You’re like– you’re like my favorite person, maybe.”

“… shut up.”

Brock did. But not for very long.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing!” 

Brock turned so he was fully facing Elias.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft, “look at me?”

Elias clenched and released his fists. He swallowed. Then he turned, mirroring Brock’s pose. He met Brock’s eyes.

“Wanna know what I’m thinking?” Brock asked. Elias honestly wasn’t sure if he did. Brock just watched him, and when Elias didn’t reply, raised a single eyebrow. Elias decided that he wasn’t going to say anything at all, and just wait and see what Brock did. At a point, Elias got worried that Brock really wouldn’t tell him. Again, he should know better by now. “I’m thinking,” Brock began, paused, continued, “I’m thinking that you’re making this... a lot more difficult than it needs to be. Like, for yourself. For... Like you’re– you’re, like, fighting. And I’m also,” Brock pursed his lips for a moment like he was considering how to say whatever the next thing he was planning to say was. “I guess, I’m thinking, or wondering, I guess, why that is.”

Elias didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know what to do. Elias shifted his eyes to look at a spot behind Brock’s head, then back to Brock. Brock seemed to have said his piece and now he looked like he was waiting for Elias to say something. Elias did not. He started to worry that Brock might get mad if he didn’t say something soon. Brock rarely got mad for real, and he’d never been really mad at Elias, and Elias didn’t have any good reason to think that it would happen now. And still… but Brock didn’t look mad. He looked ridiculously earnest. He looked vulnerable in a way that made Elias nervous and envious at the same time. He looked really good. His hair was dry now. Shiny and yellow. Brock had, and it made Elias feel silly even thinking it, but he had what Elias could only think to describe as _kind_ eyes.

“Petey?” Brock reached up and brushed some invisible lint from Elias’ shoulder and Elias snapped back to reality, and his heart leapt right back into his throat. Brock’s fingers traced a line down Elias’ arm as he let his hand fall.

“I only say it cus…” Brock began again, and again Elias got worried, not about making Brock mad now, but about making him sad. “I don’t think, I mean, I thought– or think, that it doesn’t… it doesn’t have to be difficult.” 

A moment that felt like an eternity passed.

“I don’t know,” Elias finally said.

“Don’t know?” Brock asked. “You don’t know…”

“I mean I don’t know why… I don’t know why I’m…” Elias ran a hand through his hair. “It’s– it’s–” It’s mortifying. It’s confusing. It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s weird and it’s warm and– “It’s embarrassing.”

Elias was sure Brock was going laugh. But he didn’t. Brock didn’t laugh at him. But he smiled. And again, he said: “Petey, it’s okay. It’s okay!” And inexplicably, Elias suddenly felt like crying. “It’s okay.” Brock looked at Elias, looked into his eyes and Elias wanted to look away, but he didn’t. It was like Brock tried to pass the thought, the confidence, from his own mind to Elias’, to let him see that he really meant it. But then he furrowed his brow a little and he said: “ _Is_ it okay?” Brock hesitated. “Do you- do you want me to stop?”

“No,” Elias said without having to think about it. No, he didn’t. Elias didn’t want to him to stop.

“Oh. Good,” Brock exhaled, he sounded relieved, “good, alright, then it’s okay! It really is okay!” 

Elias exhaled. He felt exhausted suddenly, like his head was too heavy. He let it fall onto Brocks shoulder, in the nook of Brock’s neck. He sighed against Brock’s skin, still so warm from the sun. All Elias’ energy completely sapped from his body. Brock just put one hand around his back and one on the back of Elias’ head. And he held him. And Elias wanted to cry again. If he did, Brock didn’t mention it.

Brock held him and held him. “This okay?” he asked.

Elias nodded, hummed the affirmative into the fabric of Brock’s shirt.

Brock seemed to hesitate for just a second, and then he kissed the top of Elias’ head. 

When they stood like this Brock felt big, despite being the shorter of the two – granted, not by much. Elias tried to think if he had ever let Brock touch him like this before, and he was drawing a blank. Then he wondered why he hadn’t. Elias wrapped his arms around Brock’s middle and considered if this meant he had given up fighting. But this didn’t feel like giving up. It didn’t feel like a defeat. It felt like the opposite of that. 

Elias felt Brock’s breathing as much as he heard it. 

“You smell like sunscreen,” Brock said. 

The longer they stood there, the sleepier Elias got. The drinks were finally really catching up to him. He hummed again. 

The rain stopped.

 

*

 

Elias was swaying and Brock, who was technically still wearing his shirt but only just, was blushing with his whole body, the alcohol and the sun and the heat made him pulse like a heart. 

Brock put his hands on Elias’ shoulders and pulled back to have him at an arm’s length, and Elias felt the warmth from his skin through the sleeves of his shirt. His smile wasn’t goofy, it was happy. Elias smiled back. He still felt a little silly, and a little shy, but he couldn’t find it in himself to mind. He smiled back at Brock.

“Are you very drunk?” Brock asked, voice low and conspiratorial now like he was asking Elias to let him in on a secret. It was no secret, though. Elias was hammered.

“Yeah,” he just said, and then broke into of giggles. He really was quite drunk. And very warm. And Brock was very close and very pink and tan and tipsy.

And Brock was laughing too. He was squinting and snorting. “Me too,” he said. “The– the beers.”

“Too many beers,” Elias agreed. “I should go home. I should– I’m gonna– is it... I’m gonna call a cab.” Brock nodded along understandingly.

“Me too, me too” Brock said. “Buses? Too late for buses? What time is it?”

“I don’t know, I don't know what the time... Don’t take the bus…” Elias trialed off for a second. “I’m gonna get a cab, let’s– I’m gonna go find a cab.”

“Hey," Brock said, "we can go in the same one, in the same– the same… cab.”

“Yeah,” said Elias. They _could_ go in the same cab.

“And then it could go to your house and then it could go to my house and it would be– wouldn’t be so much, so much– we can split it, you know?”

“Yeah,” Elias said again. He had to admit, Brock was making a pretty good point. 

Or…

“Or?” Brock asked. Fuck. Elias hadn’t meant to say that out loud. 

“Or?”

“You said ‘or’!”

“I didn’t– I just… I would also be less if…”

“If…?”

“If!”

“Because…”

“Yes?” God, Elias ready hoped Brock would just say it so he wouldn’t have to.

“Because I live very far away,” Brock said.

“It’s not that far.” One last push, just to make sure.

“It’s SO far! And if I just go your– to your house. It’s more less!” Brock was right. It _would_ be more less. Elias did live closer. “ _Peteeeeeeey_.”

“ _Brock_.”

“I could just go to your house.”

“My house…”

“Yeah we both go in the same cab and go to your house.” Brock’s cheeks were very pink and very round. “I want to sleeeeep. I don’t want to go far I want to go not far, like go to your house and then sleep.” Elias felt at least as pink as Brock looked.

“We have to… find a cab,” said Elias. They weren’t getting to anybody’s house without a cab.

“I can find a cab. And then go to your house. And sleep. In your house.”

“Yeah.” Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Elias couldn’t think of anything else to say. Going to his house to sleep sounded like one of the better ideas either of them had ever had, and they’d had a lot of pretty good ideas. Going to sleep at his house. With Brock there. That was maybe what made this idea truly great. “Yeah,” Elias said again. “We go to my house. Call a cab.”

 

*

 

Elias didn’t know how long they’d been gone, but at some point during that time Troy and joined the group along with a blonde girl who Elias was pretty sure was named Emma. The music was louder now than when Elias and Brock had snuck off.

Hutty had folded his t-shirt up under itself so a good eight inches of skin was showing. His was the only glass that was empty. He was in front of the rest of the group, maybe dancing, maybe miming, and the only one facing them as they came down the stairs and so was the first to notice them. He didn’t stop moving but he called out to them.

“Hey!”

The rest turned to see what he was looking at, seeing Brock and Elias. 

“Hey, Boes! Petey!” Troy said. “Where’ve you been?”

“We’re gonna go,” Brock said.

“Home,” Elias added. 

“But we just got here.”

Brock walked around one of the sofa and found his hat again, but he didn’t put it on. 

“Have fun!” he said and put his hand up in a wave. “See ya!”

“You call a cab?” Jake asked.

“Oh, shit,” Brock said. 

“Want me you call?” someone else asked, Federica it sounded like. 

“Yes, please, I love you.” He reached over and grabbed his glass with Hutty's cocktail and took a final sip. Still terrible, if the face he made was anything to go by.

“Idiots.”

“Takes one–”

“Hey, Petey, you didn’t finish your Ben Hutton Special.”

“I’m too young to die, Huttsy.”

“ _I_ didn’t die!”

“Yet.”

“Hutty you look like a fool”

“He is a fool.”

“ _Hey!_ ”

“Says it’s here in five.”

“Wanna wait downstairs? We’re gonna wait downstairs.”

“See you guys.”

“Hutty’s too drunk to see anything.”

“You’re supposed to be on _my_ side!”

 

*

 

The others were still bantering and calling each other names when Elias and Brock left them. Halfway down the stairs to the bottom floor of the apartment he put his palm against Brock’s warm back, letting Brock lead them out the door and to the elevator down to the ground floor. 

In the elevator, their backs to the mirror, Elias took Brock’s hand. 

Outside, down on the street, the smell of wet concrete was heavy, rising from the warm roads. Elias liked this smell. They still had a couple of minutes until the taxi would get there. 

 

*

 

Elias did not fight Brock when he tried to put his hat on him.

**Author's Note:**

> (DESIRE DESIRE DESIRE DESIRE DESIRE DESIRE)


End file.
